Fire and Snow
by OurStoryWasEpic
Summary: Daenerys and Jorah have travelled from Pentos to Kings Landing. They are separated from their Kahl and meet a mysterious stranger. Please feel free to review, I'd love to hear what y'all think!
1. Chapter 1

**_Daenerys and Jorah have landed in King's Landing and have been separated from her Kahl. Meanwhile, Jon Snow is also in King's Landing after abandoning the Knight's Watch to seek revenge for his father's death._**

Years later, when I had crossed the narrow sea and found my way to the place I once called home; the place where the iron throne had been stolen from my family, I found myself overwhelmed by all that surrounded me. The crossing from Pentos had not been easy and my stomach still tumbled like the waves. I heard fanfare in the distance, and I knew that I was not safe here; the Usurper was moving through the streets. Grabbing Jorah, I stumbled into a nearby alley, where I found myself face to face with a man.

In truth he was no more than a boy. Dressed in the tattered remnants of what seemed to be the uniform of a man of the Night's Watch, he seemed as startled as I was, but looked right through me, instead staring at Jorah as if he had seen a ghost. "Lord Mormont?" he gaped at us, confused, and in truth, a little scared. Jorah laughed, a hearty laugh, the kind of which I had never heard cross his lips before. "Never in my life would I have expected to be called Lord... it is not in a traitor's story to be called a Lord." The boy gasped, his hand moving to the wolf's head pommel which protruded from his coats. Jorah reacted with incredible speed, pulling me behind him, and simultaneously drawing his own sword.

A curse left the boy's lips, and he raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Please Ser, I mean you or your lady no harm, it's just that you took me by surprise. The sword... I didn't intend to draw it, just to check that it was still real, that this is all still real..." Jorah and I looked at him, confused. The boy lowered his arms, gesturing that he was going to draw the sword. As he pulled it from its sheath, I saw Jorah's eyes widen, a look of sorrow dawning in his eyes. "You see Ser," the boy whispered, "Your father, whom you resemble so much... he gave me this in payment for saving his life... I... I knew it was yours, that's why I had to touch it. To see... to make sure, that this isn't all a dream."

Jorah hadn't moved an inch since the longsword had been drawn; he stood stock still, frozen. The revelation that this boy had served his lord father seemed too much for Jorah. He sunk to the ground, pulling me down with him, as he hadn't loosened his grip on my wrist. The boy obviously saw the emotion which he had stirred within my knight's heart, and he too sat, pushing the longsword across the ground, until its Valyrian steel blade was inches from Jorah's fingers. Absent mindedly, Jorah stroked the flat end of the blade, murmuring what sounded like "Longclaw" under his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**_The POV switches from time to time in this chapter, I really wanted to give each character their own voice. I'll label each different POV for now, but I might leave it when it becomes clear who's who. Hope you like it!_**

Daenerys:  
The boy looked distraught as he ran his hand through the loose curls of his long brown hair. I finally had the chance to have a good look at him, and he was not an unpleasant sight to behold. His features were small and delicate, not unlike those of a woman, but they had the strength of a man, and his eyes showed the hardship which had evidently befallen him over his years on this earth. Finally Jorah lifted his head, looking directly at the boy. "What is your name boy?" he asked his voice hard.

The boy looked up, startled, and shifted his position on the ground. "I am Jon Snow; I served your father as steward of the Night's Watch." Jorah nodded, but still looked unsettled. "What kind of steward is awarded a longsword? You say it was in payment for his life?" The boy, Jon, nodded, clearing his throat, "I killed a Wight..." The word shook Jorah from his stupor, a look of fear crossing his face. "So winter has come," he intoned, "and it has brought an army of Walkers with it..."

Jon:  
Hearing the Stark words in that context was jarring for me. They were my words, but simultaneously they were not. The bastard blood which flowed through my veins made sure of that. I stared at the face of the man I knew to be Jorah Mormont, the traitor son of my Lord Commander. He would almost be Lord Mormont's double, though time had not stamped its mark about this man's face as it had to the elder Mormont. As I watched he absent-mindedly rubbed his stubbled chin, a gesture I knew all too well.

A flash of Lord Mormont making that exact gesture on the night of the Wight attack flashed across my vision. I instantly touched the now-healed burns on my right hand, bringing myself back to the present. I could feel two sets of eyes boring into me, and I looked up. Jorah was leaning forward, Longclaw now re-sheathed and extended, pommel first, towards me. I was surprised, as I had expected him to keep the blade. It was after all rightfully his. I was just a bastard steward; I had no right to anything.

Jorah:  
The boy looked confused, staring at me as if I were one of my Khaleesi's dragons. I shook Longclaw at him, hoping he'd save us both the embarrassment and take it without further angst. The Gods however, were not smiling today. "Ser, the blade is yours, I cannot take it." I sighed deeply, swallowing my pride, and ignoring the urge to take him up on the offer. My lord father must have seen something in this boy; else he would never have given the blade up, especially not to a Northern bastard.

My father was fierce, unyielding, and even unreasonable at times, but his judgement was sound. If he thought it fit to award Longclaw to his bastard steward, then there must be some strength and courage in the boy which I had yet to see. "My father trusted you with this blade. And so shall I." The boy raised his head, grey eyes wide and shining, and gripped the wolf's head pommel tightly. I pulled him to his feet looking him up and down, trying to unearth the mysterious quality which had won my father's trust.


	3. Chapter 3

Daenerys:  
The boy seemed truly shocked by Jorah's decision to allow the blade to remain in his care, though I was not. I knew my Knight had a good heart and a sound mind, and although I had never heard him speak of his father, it was clear that he still held Lord Mormont in high regard, despite the exile which had been imposed on him. Jorah had scarcely allowed me to see past his tough exterior, but I knew that inside his suit of armour beat a heart full of pain and sorrow that even I had not experienced.  
I knew that the pain which burned inside of me over the loss of the moon of my life and our child could never compare to what Jorah felt inside. Nothing I could have done would have brought Drogo and Rhaego back to me, but Jorah's loss was self-inflicted. He believed that he had driven away his father's love, and he knew that he could not win it back. I knew that my moon and stars smiled down on me from the heavens; Jorah would never feel that peace.

I touched the back of Jorah's hand; trying to show him that I knew his pain, that I understood his loss. At my touch he raised his head, snapping himself out of whatever haze his thoughts had dragged him into. He smiled sadly, and silently interlaced his fingers with mine. The surprise of his familiarity was short lived; as I felt his fingers close around mine a wave of heat rose within me. In that moment his touch felt right, I felt safe. He was my Knight, and I his Khaleesi.

Jon:  
I watched as Ser Jorah reached down and took the hand of his silver haired companion. She seemed startled by this intimacy, but did not move away. I saw a look of contentment pass between the two of them, not unlike the looks I had once seen my father exchange with Lady Catelyn. Their familiarity seemed rooted within them; though I previously had not thought them to be lovers, I now began to re-assess this assumption. This moment was not one of friendship, but of love.  
As I looked on, I began to feel as if I were intruding upon and intimate moment, a secret meeting between two lovers. I turned away to hide the redness of my cheeks, but they did not turn; so oblivious were they to all around them. As I turned, I noticed a child staring at me from the shadows. A look of fear crossing his face as his eyes froze on the longsword in my hand. I began tell the boy that I meant no harm, but in an instant he was gone, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"DESERTER!"

Jorah:  
The sound of a child screeching wrenched me back to the present. I felt Daenerys' hand fall from mine, as we both snapped back to reality. I saw the Snow boy racing to the end of the alley which had offered us shelter from the treacherous streets of King's Landing. The screeching child was long gone, but his cries still echoed around our camp, assaulting us from all sides. The boy's face was ashen as he returned, his terror evident in his eyes. He knew, as well as I did, that we were no longer safe.

The boy scrambled forward to collect the cloak of the Night's Watch which he had obviously been using as bedding. I began to wonder how long he had been camped out here, and what his business was in King's Landing. This was a treacherous area for a deserter of the Night's Watch; no sane man would risk their life like this unless it was for a divine purpose. As I watched him, he shoved two finders in his mouth and whistled loudly, the shrill sound piercing the silence which had descended upon us.

I heard a soft pounding of paws approaching from behind, and turned to find a fierce dog unlike any I'd ever seen before approaching at a threatening pace. I dove to protect my Khaleesi, fearing the hound might spring for her delicate and unprotected frame. However, I needn't have worried, as the animal ran straight past us towards the boy. A fearsome creature, it stood taller than the boy's hip, with a fleece as white as fallen snow. The boy knelt beside it, lowering his face into the creature's shaggy mane, speaking to it as if it were a dear friend.


	4. Chapter 4

Jon:  
I gripped Ghost's fur between my fingers, burying my face into his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. He smelled like Winterfell; like fresh fallen snow and burning wood. Like home. For a moment I imagined what it would be like to be back there, before the war, before my stint on the Wall, before I lost everything I had ever held dear to me. But I could never go back to Winterfell, that wasn't my home any longer. I had no home.

Maester Aemon had once told me that the hardest part of being a man of the Night's Watch was the choice. The choice to keep my vows, or to abandon them for the sake of my family. My vows are but a memory now, I can never go back to them. I only wish that I had abandoned them sooner; maybe then I would have still had a family to return to. I had heeded the advice of a man who had allowed his entire family to die without lifting a finger. I should have never trusted a Targaryen.

Daenerys:  
I watched the boy and his wolf, sitting quietly together. Jorah had seemed so afraid of the creature, seeing only its ferocity, not its beauty; similar to the way he viewed my dragons. But the beast was fiercely protective; I could see that the ghostly animal would not allow any harm to come to the boy. The tender scene was shattered by footsteps; heavy and quick, moving towards us in the fading light of day. The wolf moved; teeth bared and hackles rising. We were in danger and he could smell it.

Jon:  
I tried to tune out everything around me; Ghosts growling, the footsteps approaching in the distance, the steady trickle of water running into the sewers. I froze. I hadn't heard the water before; where was it coming from? Swivelling on my toes I searched the alley for another exit, the source of the quiet drip; and there it was. The opening was no taller than Ghost's back, and certainly no wider, but myself and the silver-haired girl would fit through it no problem; though the same may not have been true for Ser Mormont. Turning, I saw that the pair had snapped back to reality and were already following my train of thought, moving slowly towards the opening. It was no more than a 4x4 gap; but we could not ask for a better escape-route. The gold-cloaks of the Kings Guard would not be able to follow on with their heavy armour. The opening seemed to lead into a lower street; but it resembled a sewer more than anything. A festering smell wafted from the street below, and as I moved closer I could hear the whisper of voices. This was the place they called Flea Bottom.

Jorah:  
I had thought all had been lost, but the boy's quick mind had found us a way out. I felt craven running from the swords of the Gold Cloaks, but I had more than myself to think of. My Khaleesi was unprotected without her dragons, so she had to be my first priority, I had to protect her. I ran in order to keep her safe, rather than standing my ground to save face. After all, my honour was long gone.

I lowered my Khaleesi through the exit, releasing her hands only when I felt her weight transfer to the ground below. I shoved myself unceremoniously through the hole, feeling my tunic catch on the ledge. Turning, I wrenched the fabric from the wall. As I struggled I saw the feet of the Gold Cloaks appear at the entrance of the alley. The fabric of my tunic tore with a audible rip, and I saw the feet turn towards the sound. I dropped to the ground, leaving nothing but a strip of fabric fluttering in the wind.

Our surroundings were nothing but desolate. The street was lined with the lowest of the low; the people a grim reminder of the results of the indulgence and excess for which the city was famed. Their sunken eyes followed us as we moved through the street, sizing us up, no doubt wondering how a knight had found himself in this hell. I took the pommel of my sword in one hand, and drew my Khaleesi to my side with the other. I needed to protect her. This was no place for a princess.

Jon:  
As we made our way through the dank streets of Flea Bottom I became more and more uneasy. I saw a pot of what looked like some sort of brown stew bubbling on a dwindling fire. The woman who stood behind the pot stared greedily at Ghost, as if he were to be her next meal. I held him by the scruff of the neck, keeping him by my side. I wasn't worried for Ghost's safety; he was more than able to look after himself; which was the cause of my worry. I did not want the blood of these starving people on my hands.


	5. Chapter 5

Jorah:  
As the sky darkened we moved quickly through the streets, finally finding ourselves a place to bed down for the night. It was not unlike our previous accommodations; although this alley was damp and smelled of rotting meat. But it was relatively closed off and shielded us from prying eyes, so we settled in. The boy chose to sleep in the mouth of the alley, nestling down in a ball next to his wolf. Nestled under his furs, the pair were virtually indistinguishable from one another.

I would take the first watch, as none of us were safe now that the guards had been alerted to a hostile presence in King's Landing. I bade my Khaleesi to lie next to me, so I could watch over her as she slept, but she refused. She settled in beside me, resting her chin on my shoulder. Her proximity was incredibly distracting; clouding my brain with indecent thoughts as I looked her up and down.

Daenerys:  
I shivered slightly as Jorah's eyes moved up and down my body; their darkness making it impossible for me to read what was on his mind. I found myself shuffling closer to him, wanting to have as much contact with him as possible. I laid a hand on his thigh, pressing down gently. His eyes snapped to mine, a thin smile playing on his lips for a moment; disappearing as fast as it had appeared.

He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to mine. He breathed out heavily, running his fingers across my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "You test my strength princess…" he growled under his breath. I pulled away from him, taking his face in my hands. His eyes flicked open, locking me in his gaze. "I don't want you to be strong…" I whispered.

He pulled my hands from his face, holding them fast to my sides. I struggled to free them but he held them tight. His eyes held mine in their gaze, and slowly he relaxed his grip. Tentatively his hands travelled to my waist, his touch light as he traced his fingers up and down my sides, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. I shivered with the pleasure of his touch, bringing my hands to the nape of his neck, running my fingers through the soft, fine hair.

Suddenly he gripped me tight, lifting me onto his lap as if I weighed nothing; my legs straddling him. I pressed myself to him, moving slowly as Doreah had taught me, moving my hips in time to his breathing. He pulled me tight to him, eyes locked with mine. I could feel him harden as I moved on his lap, a low growl escaping his lips. Fiercely, he caught me with his lips, pulling me into a passionate kiss, igniting a fire in my stomach which travelled downwards. I pressed myself to him; wanting as little distance between us a possible. Frantically he pulled at my dress, pulling the shoulders down to reveal my breasts.

Jorah:  
I pulled away from her mouth, moving my lips down her throat to her breast, teasing her with my teeth. I felt her nipples harden with my touch, heard her groan in pleasure as she pressed herself even closer to me, gyrating on my lap. I longed to take her, here and now, in the shadows of Kings Landing, but I knew I could not. With a sigh I pulled her dress back into place, shifting her slightly in my lap. Daenerys looked at me in confusion, pulling her fingers through my hair. "What is it?" she whispered.

I held her face in my hands, locking her in my gaze. "Khaleesi, we cannot do this here. Although I wish, oh Gods, I wish we could, it would not be right. I cannot, I WILL not, take you here like a common whore. You are a princess, and deserve to be treated as such."


End file.
